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someone…”
    “No,” Richard said, the tears flowing freely now. “You’re going to live!”
    “Promise…” his mother’s whisper was barely audible.
    Richard nodded his head as his mother’s eyes closed for the last time.
    He thought back on his life before the tragedy: a degree in Environmental Biology in his sights, a future of glowing possibilities stretching out before him. Though academic achievement was increasingly giving way to the more practical problems of staying alive, Richard had still dreamed of getting his Doctorate and teaching at the University, and his parents had sacrificed everything to pay for his education. His father, himself a Ph.D., had sworn that his sons would have opportunities equal to his own – and Richard’s father always kept his word. He owed them a debt that, after their deaths, he could never repay.
    After the tragedy he’d given up on the degree. Danny, then only thirteen, still needed someone to look after him. The class Richard now taught at the Community College, while considered one of the most important in the modern curriculum, demanded little of his advanced knowledge.
    He taught gardening.
    The deaths of his mother and father had spawned orphaned memories among the living ones, like holes in his life. You could paper over the holes, he considered, blending them into the live bits so that even you couldn’t tell the difference, or you could obsess about them and let them eat away at you until your life was no longer worth living. He’d always done his best to choose the first option, but the second was always out on the edges of his psyche, threatening to come in.
    In a fleeting instant, the two most important people in his world had been obliterated. Now, with equal speed, the deathbed promise he’d made had been broken. The brother he’d sworn to protect had disappeared, and Richard had not the slightest idea how to find him.
    As if sensing his mood, Zonk ambled over and sat beside his knee. Zonk was a mongrel – slightly overweight and vaguely brick-shaped, with stick-like legs, a head that looked too small for the rest of his body, pointed ears that stood straight up, and a pointed nose. He wasn’t beautiful, but he had a way of staring up at you with a serene, beatific expression that was immediately endearing.
    Richard had picked Zonk up at an animal shelter not long after the murders. No-one there knew anything about the dog’s history. He’d been found tied to a fence outside, in good condition, but with no note of explanation. His spaced-out expression had bought him his nickname, and the name stuck.
    Richard had been looking for a dog to protect their property. It didn’t take more than a glance to see that Zonk was no guard dog, but when thirteen-year-old Danny saw him it was love at first sight – they took the dog home.
    Richard reached down and scratched affectionately behind Zonk’s ears, and for a moment almost forgot his troubles. Zonk turned his head back and gazed up with his characteristic otherworldly expression, as if he were the guardian of some wonderful secret that, if Richard were lucky, he might someday be willing to share. Richard smiled, in spite of himself.
    “Good boy, Zonk,” he said. “That’s a good dog.”
     
    The College library was nearly empty early the next morning as Richard signed in at the desk and logged onto a computer. He’d used up his days off – and in any case wanted to do some research. Like most people, he couldn’t afford to own a computer and, more importantly, couldn’t afford the electricity to run one. From the street names mentioned in the journal it was clear that the entries referred to Surrey. After a short time on the search engine he located a detailed street map of the sprawling suburb.
    He examined the ‘Wild Rose’ entry. KG… he thought as he studied the map, trying to match some landmark with the initials. Nothing. He hadn’t realized how huge Surrey was. After half an hour of